Yet I'm still laying here. It's pitch
                              black
The only thing bright enough to see is this tiny little screen I
                    tap tap
                                     tap
To write you this poem.
                You'll be happy to hear I've started smoking again to let my lungs go
                 B
                          L
                A
                            C
         K
Because for once, I let them breath. You told me to try.
              You said it'll be fine. We'll be fine. Yeah I believed you, but my mistake. You're like the smell of nail polish remover, you can last for days but gone in a week. Oh, but a month later, your stench, it'll crawl the house.
                   I'm sorry to be bitter,
     black.
                                          I know every morning when I wake up,
                   my mouth will taste
Like ****
                           because I know I've been saying your name
                                        all night.
~T.P~